Surely among an old man’s memories
there should be recollections
of the long nights of love he spent
in his younger days when the world
was new and the stars had lost
none of their brilliance
and the streams teamed with trout
and the roses seemed never to die
when he would wake to sweetness
to gentleness to light – content
at every turn of his dreams
the solid architecture of his life
built upon the unerring
beauty of her heart
John Lyons